God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven read more

God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I'm going all along.

Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
read more

Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.

Of right and wrong he taught
Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
And (strange to tell) read more

Of right and wrong he taught
Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
And (strange to tell) he practis'd what he preach'd.

I met a preacher there I knew, and said,
Ill and overworked, how fare you in this scene?
read more

I met a preacher there I knew, and said,
Ill and overworked, how fare you in this scene?
Bravely! said he; for I of late have been
Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, the living bread.

For the preacher's merit or demerit,
It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer
In read more

For the preacher's merit or demerit,
It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer
In the earthen vessel, holding treasure,
But the main thing is, does it hold good measure
Heaven soon sets right all other matters!

And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of a stick.

And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of a stick.

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like read more

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like a scythe
When tithing time draws near.

Even ministers of good things are like torches, a light to
others, waste and destruction to themselves.

Even ministers of good things are like torches, a light to
others, waste and destruction to themselves.

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
read more

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!